


Love has no political affiliation - Steven Crowder debates Sam Seder

by Bessarion



Category: Louder With Crowder - Steven Crowder, Majority Report - Sam Seder, Political Commentator RPF, US Comedians RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Politics, Civil War, Conservative, Homoerotica, LGBTQ Jewish Character(s), LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Political, Social Justice, antifa, homophobe, liberal, louderwithcrowder, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-01 01:10:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21308360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bessarion/pseuds/Bessarion
Summary: After a debate with Majority Report's Sam Seder, homophobic Steven Crowder recalls the traumatic event that shaped his whole life. Slowly but steadily Steven begins to soften his conservative views until he realizes that there is more to Sam than he ever imagined. How long will it take until Steven falls for the charismatic but dangerous progressive intellectual?
Relationships: Sam Seder/Steven Crowder
Comments: 8
Kudos: 9





	1. Brown People

It began with the demonetization of his YouTube channel and a few mean tweets. His revenues were still strong especially from the mug club. Conservatives loved his content and he loved their money. But the Carlos Maza drama was just the beginning of the slow deterioration of his mind. It did have an impact on Steven Crowder's psyche though he would never admit it in public. But that was nothing against the next shitstorm that would face him very soon.

An old meme surfaced again. "Debate Sam Seder" was everywhere, when Politicon leaked a mail that showed him, Steven Crowder, first crying and begging not to debate Sam Seder, then totally ghosting Politicon's requests. With Seder being a jewish intellectual it was pretty obvious that he had zero chance. In fact he was sure that in a fair debate format Seder would totally disgrace him to a degree that his reputation as the destroyer of college campus students would never recover. Because he didn't have any other skills to find a decent job, this would cost him everything: his beloved house and his new car - and he would rather die than being dependant on welfare or his wife.

But the soy-fueled "Debate Sam Seder"-movement grew stronger with each time he dodged a debate. The riducule didn't even stop when he was sleeping. _You are not courageous enough to face a middle aged jew who likes facts and figures. You are a coward._ The voices in his head were restless. Conservatives turned against him. They insulted him. _You fag. You self-loathing homo. Why don't you run to your safe space, wussy?_ And Crowder would yell "Nooooo! Please! Leave me alone!" into the dark void of his mind until he woke up drenched in his sweat, curled up like a pathetic shrimp. These hellish visions became a routine - people looking like Michael Brooks were following him en masse, telling him to debate Sam Seder unisono. That was the last straw.

In secret Steven Crowder hoped that none of his followers were coming, but as always he was wrong. The chanting of slurs was audible even before he got out of his car. There were a lot of them and they greeted him enthusiastically on sight. That gave him a small boost of confidence. But the debate's topic was taxation and he knew that Seder was a natural expert. After all he was jewish, that must be good for something, he thought unironically. Maybe his goons would start a brawl, he hoped. _Anything that gives me the edge over this libcuck._

He checked the location. At the side of the stage some people ensured that the mics worked and he weaseled his way over to them.  
"Hey, amigo! Wanna get some quick cash?", he asked the guys, some of which were clearly Mexicans. It was hard to hide his contempt for these parasitic lifeforms, but he was in a desperate situation and needed every help. They turned around to him with bewildered faces.

"I'm not going to suck you off, if that's what you want", one of them said in perfect English, then grinned. Crowder's face turned deep red.

"Nooooo! Dude, are you serious? Do I look like I have AIDS? Look, look - my voice, I had a cold. Can you turn the volume of my mic up a notch?", he began with a fake raspy voice.

The workers looked at each other. "I don't think that we are allowed to do that."

"I will pay. How much do you want?" The man that joked on his expense before shrugged.

"Don't know. 100 bucks?"

Instantly Crowder disregarded the proposer and turned to another of his friends. "You. Mustache. How much do you want? Can you understand me?"

"Yes. But you should leave", he said politely. Crowder was fuming.

"Since when do you care about rules? You brown people have no respect for the American pride or white people. You guys have papers? Where are your papers!?"

"Isn't this kind of racist?", one of them murmured, then stepped back cautiously as if he knew he had pushed Crowder's last button.

"YOU are the racist!", Crowder exploded and threw his hands around in a theatrical fashion. "You only say that, because I am white. You hate my skin color, you are envious!", he continued with an irritating high pitched voice. These guys weren't prepared for a confrontation with Crowder, after all Crowder had trained many years at college campuses. The title of the campus debate champion belonged to him, not to stupid Ben Shapiro. And they backed off like he was a dangerous venomous creature, a genius, **a true alpha**.

Crowder continued his anger-fueled tirade for a whole fifteen minutes and some guys from the security had to come to defuse the situation. This couldn't be any better, this was all he needed, a good old hate speech to boost his confidence. He was on fire, totally ready to face Sam Seder.

This was the first time Crowder laid eyes on Sam Seder in person. Seder walked on stage and sat down, all while taking his time almost like he was teasing him. And it was mesmerizing to watch him walk, every step was confident and determined like he had a clear plan of where to go. _How does he keep this level of posture?_ Then Seder's observant dark eyes scanned him and he suddenly felt very vulnerable, almost naked. This man had an IQ of at least 140. But instead of disrespecting him as Crowder would usually do when talking to lower life forms, Seder was surprisingly civil.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Steven."

He reached out his hand to him. Maybe Crowder was perplexed by this man's vibes, but he passed the short moment to shake hands. It was akward for them both, but Crowder played it off like it was calculated.

"Here I am, jewish man. I will destroy you - change my mind, Seder." His obedient goons gobbled it up.

"You know, Crowder. That's a pretty bold thing to say for a man that dodged a debate with me for - was it like two years?" Laughter. Crowder repeated the sound bite in his worst Seder impression and the crowd went crazy.

The moderator carried the conversation forward to today's topic: taxation.

"All, right. Let's assume we have a suburban family. Wife, husband, kids - maybe even a Mexican servant. Never before did we have the same living standard. Education, healthcare, safety - must I go on? We have the best economy in a whole generation. And that is thanks to tax cuts."

Seder disproved the nonsequitur easily, then the conversation shifted towards corporations.

"The tax cuts went to the wealthy, everyone knows that. The point is, they already have an tremendous amount of wealth and income. And this wealth translates into political power, so that's a problem. More tax cuts benefit nothing but a system in which corporations gain even more power."

"Steven? Your answer", asked the moderator. Visibly sweating Crowder took a quick glance at his crib. _Taxation = theft_ \- he turned the note around. Empty. _That's bad. _

"The radical left uses these arguments all the time - the American people are fine. Obviously. Of course there are tiny exceptions, but taxes especially hurt those who are already in debt. Just imagine a world where the small buisness in the neighbourhood doesn't have to pay the same amout of taxes. These taxes can make a big difference between gain or a deficit. It helps against unemployment rates. And with lower unemployment the US doesn't have to spend more wellfare for those that don't need it.  
In short, you could say that taxation is even unconstitutional", Crowder smirked in his typical fashion.

He took a look at the crowd where some of them cheered for him. _They seem to be on my side._ Still smirking he turned to Seder that was looking at the ground with an expression of deep concentration. One could tell that there was a lot going on under his surface.

Then his gaze met Crowder's and a chill formed in Crowder's body. His smirk evaporated instantly. Visibly startled Crowder started another attack: "Forget about any logical objections or couterarguments to things like taxation - the left doesn't care about those."

"Okay, pause it." The crowd went silent and focused on Sam Seder. "This just shows that you know absolutely nothing. Let me teach you something about economy and politics."


	2. Objections to Same-sex Intercourse

He had always perceived Sam Seder as a cucky soy boy, but not anymore. Seder's tempting liberal ideas shook his very inner core. They evoked something in Steven Crowder that was long forgotten, something that he never dared to revisit. His compassion and his feelings, they began to surface again.

"Let me break this down. You know - trickle-down economics don't work. They never worked in the first place much to the distress of many people, especially those with ethnic background", Seder continued. Slowly but steadily the audience turned to Sam's side.

"Also your appreciation for Reaganomics is hilariously unfounded. Everyone knows that there were higher tax rates than today."

And with each knockdown Crowder was thrown further back in time to the moment when the incident happened. The incident that dictated his whole life, the moment when his heart turned into stone, the reason why he was a racist die-hard conservative in the first place. _It wasn't your fault mother..._

Crowder could literally see people putting their MAGA hats down, ashamed of how they have been fooled by Trump's propaganda campaign and the whole Republican Party.

After an excruciating amout of time the first part of the debate was finally over. Sam didn't even break a sweat and Crowder was already destroyed. Defeated Crowder stood up and walked to the toilets, his face frozen in a lethargic expression. His most devoted individuals tried to cheer him up, but he walked past them without taking a notice. Under his mask his very essence was squirming.

_Am I crying? What is wrong with me? What are these emotions?_

At the men's room he hid in one of the cabins. _Soon it will all be over. I will just make up a silly story how I was blackmailed by a crazy sjw. Or Mexicans. That will show them._ At the same time he asked himself why Seder's words had such an impact on him. Some of his ideas really resonated in him, but he would never admit it, because socialism is for fags.

_Son, you are a disgrace for this family. I've told you that you can't win against those cheating jews. Stupid fag!_, the shrill and outlandish voice of his father resonated in his head. He had disappointed him once again.

"Enough, father! Make it stop!", cried Crowder and ran out of the stall. On the way out the bumped into Sam Seder. Quickly he wiped his burning tears away and apologized while avoiding eye contact. _Please don't make this moment worse._ He winced when Sam got a hold of his arm.

"Wait, Stevey." His grasp was firm and determined.

"What?", Crowder asked.

No one but his closest friends called him Stevey. Real tension was in the air.

"This was not personal, I guess."

Sam released his hold. Maybe Crowder expected something different from his mouth. Maybe an apology. But this nonexcuse triggered him.

"Yeah, so? You humiliated me in front of my whole fanbase." His voice became over the top dramatic, a sure indicator that Crowder was riled up and angry. He shoved Seder against the wall, but instantly regretted that. Instead of being triggered or afraid Sam Seder came close to his ear.

"I want to ask you something - Uhm. Why do you hate liberals?"

"Easy. Liberals are responsible for 9/11. Liberals are the true racists. Society would flourish without them."

"Well, isn't it internationally agreed that the 9/11 incident was triggered through military foreign intervention of the Bush administration?"

While he spoke in his typical slow paced fashion to explain him very basic facts, Crowder had only eyes for his lips. _They look so soft. I wonder if he uses lip balm._ But he quickly collected himself when someone entered the toilets and walked past them. "Enough with your nonsensical ideas. I will not get humiliated or destroyed by you in front of an audience again. Mark my words!"

"And without an audience?"

Face to face and discreetly smiling this middle aged jewish man put his hand on his shoulder. Crowder gasped. Never before had someone flirted with him so openly. Was he?

"I - I don't know ... I mean, of course not! Dude, I'm not a fag. I'm married", he muttered and showed him his wedding ring, but his objections were so unconvincing that Seder broke out in a laughter, then gently slapped his face.

"I'm just kidding, you fool." He left Crowder standing with shaky legs and an enormous high blood pressure.

Like he was fleeing from a crime scene Steven Crowder rushed out of the building where he was greeted by the night. His breathing was heavy, the fresh air filled his lungs and the oxygen helped him to process what just happened. This had been too intense, it was obvious that there was some kind of chemistry going on between them. But he had never been attracted to men or was he?

There was no denial that Sam Seder had attractive features. His well-groomed graying hair was certainly a highlight, but nothing was as beautiful than his sparkling eyes accentuated by the frame of his glasses. Though he was not attractive in the usual sense (he was neither a Dan Crenshaw nor a Richard Spencer) he emitted something that Crowder has never seen in his life. Intelligence. This made him stick out from his hot competition. Together with his attitude, his work ethics and his perfect paced line delivery, he was truly a gem. A dangerous, 10 out of 10 gem, but still very hot while being eloquent and liberal. Sam was lighting in a bottle. _Too bad that I am 100% straight._ But there was no way that he would return to the debate stage.

The following days Steven Crowder didn't dared to use the internet. They would make fun of him nonstop anyway. At least he had something to look forward to, because all would be forgotten after the next mass shooting and everyone would jump on NRA. But one thing stayed longer on his mind than he wanted. His craving for a "platonic friendship" with Sam Seder grew stronger every day and with it his confusion. People around him began questioning if there was something wrong with him. Usually he ignored these questions except when his wife asked. On a good day he would tell her: "Shut the fuck up, Hilary. Are you on your period again? You are useless." But most of the times he ignored the approaches from his wife.

There was only one person besides Sam Seder that would understand him. Someone equally as humiliated and confused - someone that went through the same phase. Though that person never had a reputation in the first place. He needed someone to talk to. He needed Dave Rubin.


	3. Male Body Standards

"I think we are going through very similar issues", Crowder said with an expressive gesture. Rubin gave his friend a beer while having a big smile on his face. Strangely it seemed like he was almost proud. Why?

"I'm so glad that you accepted yourself and decided to open yourself to me. I didn't understand it at first either. But we all go through similar things - just look at me now, I'm happily partnered."

It took a second before Crowder realized what Rubin meant. "Eww - nooooo! You seriously?! Fags have AIDS. They are a total abomination (nothing personal). I'm not a lispy queer. I mean my debate with Sam Seder."

"Oh, you meant your total annihalation." Dave giggled. "Yes, I've seen that with my hubby David. That's the reason I've blocked every tweet even containing Sam or Seder in the text." Crowder cleared his throat. "Wow, that hurt. And your husband is seriously named David? That's odd. If I would be married to a man named Steve I would totally kill myself with a fork. No joke." Dave laughed this off.

"I'm so glad that we can talk freely about that. People on the left are always cherry-picking and labeling everyone a racist, homophobe or worse. But I've faced more discrimination from the left then from conservatives. Don't they have mirrors?"

"I agree. It's hilarious how dumb some of these antifa-snowflakes are. Always triggered like little bitch babies."

They continued their talk about how hard it was being a conservative, in which ways Obama was comparable to Hitler and how socialism was so much deadlier to homosexuals than Nazi Germany. But the topic of the discussion naturally bounced back to Sam Seder.

"Let's assume I am gay. Just for clarification, I am not gay. I'm not demonizing these people, but it's gross. Again, this is nothing personal, Dave. But hypothetically. Do you think I have a tiny little fraction of a chance with Seder?" He frantically circled his face with his finger. Dave tried to channel his inner critic, but he was neither familiar with contructive criticism nor with hypothetical thinking.

"That's a hard question. In this hypothetical I consider you a funny comedian. Truly funny", he answered after a long and awkward pause. Crowder wasn't sure if there wasn't any irony hidden in that weird-ass compliment.

"But am I good looking? Do I look good?", Crowder asked again. Dave shrugged.

"Hypothetically? I mean it's too complex for me to say." It was obvious that Rubin was too incompetent to help him with that. But Crowder gave it another shot.

"Am I too fat?" He looked down at his waist. Not exactly his ideal body size. His body had definitely seen better days.

"Hypothetical?"

"God, Dave. Stop behaving like a useless NPC. These aren't any high level ideas - just answer the goddamn question." Again, Rubin took his time to answer.

"Aren't you married to your wife anyway?", he asked finally with every intent of dodging the question. Crowder ignored it. There were more important things going on in his life than Hilary. His body had his up and downs, but right now, he felt like shit, even she had mocked him and he will never forget the time when she poked him with a stick calling him a dumb fat ass.

"In this shape I will never get Sam Seder to like me." He gave a loud sigh then took another sip of his beer. Even alcohol seemed to be a better friend than Rubin.

"Why do you want Seder to like you? I thought you both hate each other." Confusion was on his face like a dim-witted weirdly cute puppy. "Of course we are talking about hypotheticals, dumb-ass! I'm not really into Seder."

"Maybe do some work out? And what's with the casket that you are wearing all the time?" He pointed at Crowder's arm.

"Honestly. Make out sounds good", Crowder answered truthfully, then turned red after he noticed his Freudian slip. "I mean of course the act of going to a gym and lift weights." Just for deflection Crowder flexed his muscles in front of the gay guy.

"Does this excite you in any way, Dave?", he asked teasingly.

"Well... no. Besides I am happily partnered. But Seder isn't exactly the most attractive guy either. I think you've got a chance - in this hypothetical." This insult against Sam angered Steven.

"You know nothing! You have to have a very high IQ to understand Sam Seder. His humour is extremely subtle and without a solid grasp of US politics many of his jokes will go over a typical listener's head. But you understand nothing, you and your kind are abnormal."

It was like Dave Rubin had a spam filter, anyhow Dave without getting upset in the slightest. He just began to talk again, but Crowder wasn't listening. He had to think of a reason to meet Seder again. Maybe just ask him out? No, I can't do that. No homo. He looked at Rubin and an idea began to form in his head. A really good idea. He slapped his fist on the wonky table.

"I've got it, I've got the perfect plan. This is it. What if I would dress up as a woman?" He squeezed his breast like titties.

"You mean like the time you dressed up as a fat ugly soccer mom? You are truly genius", Dave said without a whiff of irony.

"Exactly. But you will have to play your part."

"And? How can I help you?"

"Debate Sam Seder. I will strike when he doesn't expect me ."

"No! People call me dumb, but I'm not as dumb as I am. Why don't you debate him again?" Crowder shook his head. "No, I can't do it in front of my audience. It must be spontaneous and unsuspicious."

"I don't think this works. I tell you what I'll do. I will phone him, then you will ask him out. Easy peasy." Rubin grabbed his cellphone and proceeded to dial Seder, but Crowder ripped his phone out of his grasp then threw the damn thing on the concrete floor. "Noooo! I know something better."


	4. Change my Mind

To appease Dave after he had broken his phone, Crowder had bought him a cup of bubble tea. In Dave's Mercedes SUV they waited until dusk while listening to Dave Matthews Band. Every now and then Crowder made sure that his hair looked good. A glance at his watch showed that Seder should be on his way home now. Dave Rubin was skeptic.

"Why are you sure that it works now?", he asked.

"He can't resist this. No one can." The alarm clock rang. 21:40 - Seder would arrive soon from his jogging route. And everything was prepared.

"We have to hurry up now. Did you take care of the secret weapon?"

"Yes", Rubin answered.

Both men sprang out of the SUV and started to build the "Change my mind" podium. There weren't many people around, just a few Mexicans, loonies and homeless people scattered around the park - just the usual trash of New York. But Dave quickly gathered their attention with a big batch of cash. With a crowd of audience they finally attached a sign to the podium which said: "Transpeople are mentally ill - Change my mind".

Some of them turned around and walked away, others gathered around. Like the sign summoned her from the depths of hell a young female student came around and her intentions were clear before she even opened her mouth. Her sparkly neon-colored hair was bouncing around, she had a ginormous chest girth and walked around with an attitude of the queen of England. She was like the very impersonation of a radical leftist. And when she opened her mouth her deep manly voice catched the attention of the audience. "I demand a debate."

Crowder turned around to Rubin. "Whoah, where did you find such a patty?" He winked.

"She's actually a man named Markus from my AA-meetings. Don't get too hard on him."

"Steven Crowder, I hate you! You are not cancel-culturing me", she shouted like a quarterback.

"Easy, ma'am. Are you trans? Because you definitely seem mentally ill." Some people started to record their debate on their smartphones with some giggling in the crowd. Even illegal immigrants have smartphones now - what a sad day for American culture.

"This is none of your buisness. You hater. You hate me and my people. Why?!", Markus cried, eyes filled with hatred. Crowder smirked. That was some pretty damn convincing acting.

"I don't hate trans people. It is just evidently clear that trans people have some mental issues. To normalize this would normalize mental illnesses to our future generation. Suicide rates would go up." Markus stomped angrily. The crowd was in total awe of that spectacle.

"You mistake transgenderism with autogynephilia. It is the autogynephilia that is pathological. And the best way to cure it is hormone therapy, Mister Crowder. It's an easy fix."

After some back and fourth it was evident, that Markus was prepared for this. Too prepared. Just when he began to lose the audience, the sweaty head of Sam Seder poked out from the crowd and added to the derailment of his whole focus.

"Pronouns are biological", repeated Crowder, but the crazy trans-feminist easily disproved his argument.

"No it's not. We usually don't check our chromosomes when we talk to each other. Besides pronouns were used long before the dawn of micro biology. Therefore pronouns cannot be biological."

"I agree, but you are strawmanning me now. I didn't say that pronouns are biological. But I said they should refer to biological sex. Trans are such a minute minority, I'm just saying that society shouldn't adapt to them."

Heads were shaking. They were disagreeing with him once again. And Markus continued to hammer him down with pro trans-athletes arguments with no mercy. Only one in the crowds seemed unfazed by all this turmoil. Probably the sexiest man alive.   
The audience started to disperse until there was only Steven and Sam.

"It was great fun - uhm - watching you getting slammed again and again", he began slowly then cleared his throat. Dave Rubin stood quite some distance away and observed them with binoculars. Crowder formed a silent "Thank you" then he turned his attention back at Sam Seder. After determining that everything went according to plan, he walked back to his Mercedes SUV with a dumb grin. 

"To my defense - I'm more a comedian than a debater."

"But wasn't that your whole shtick? To debate young students? Destroy them? Or was that Ben Shapiro?"

"Please". Steven Crowder whispered. "Don't ruin this moment for me."

Sam smiled charmingly. A drop of sweat ran down his attractive ashkenazi jewish face. His hotness level went right over the roof, but Crowder tried the best to surpress a moan.

"Is everything alright? Does something hurt?", Seder asked and moved his intense gaze over Crowder's casket. It was like an old vinyl played "How Deep is Your Love" in Crowder's head.

"My arm is fine, I guess." 

With utmost caution Sam grabbed his arm. "They say I have an almost magic touch."

Both men stared longingly into each other's eyes. Crowder bited on his lip. Was this an invitation. Maybe now is the time.

"I can't believe what I haven't seen with my own eyes", Crowder responded flirtily, but it sounded rather pathetic.

"You mean like the Mueller Report?"

"Hell, yes."

_Now shut up and kiss me._ Crowder bended forward and closed his eyes.

His high hopes were disappointed. Crowder opened his eyes. Seder was still there, but he seemed hesitant.

"What is wrong?"

Suddenly he came much nearer to Crowder, so close that Crowder held his breath in response.

"I don't think you are ready for this. I am not the man that you think you know."

"And what kind of man are you?" Crowder wanted him, there were no other words for this craving. Sam Seder gave him a gently smile, but there was a certain sadness hidden under his kind fassade.

"I have great doubts. But I can wait no longer." In a quick motion Sam grabbed Steven's collar and pulled him to him. And with it their lips finally met like they have been lovers for ages. It was an epiphany - this was the right way - the only way to kiss. It felt so natural how each of their lips complemented each other, completed each other. And Steven greedily inhaled Sam's musk and with it every fantasy in his head was updated. He was his happiest self in months. But almost forcefully their magical connection was severed.

"Pause it." Sam drawed his lips back and for a moment he looked very vulnerable.

"What - what's wrong?" Crowder's voice cracked.


	5. Unionized?

"I really can't explain..." Sam gave him a sad smile.

„I've never imagined that you are such a good kisser ..." He exhaled violently.

"I've got to go now... Bro." With these words he started to jog away, leaving Crowder standing all alone.

"No homo", shouted Crowder in desperation, now tearing up, but Sam was already out of reach. His dream in crumbles he sat down on the ground. What now? What next? Was it possible towin his affection back? His mourning was interrupted by a young voice behind him.

"Haha. Wow, what fucking homos!", the deep voice said. "When are you guys going to suck each other? Haha, fags!" These words cut deeper than Crowder expected.

For the first time in his life Crowder deciced to stand up to homophobia. Something in him told him that it was the right thing to do. He wanted to change.

"What have you said? We are no dirty fags!" He turned to the speaker, his eyes like piercing flames and his fist turned into a weapon of mass destruction. Just after he landed his brutal punch he was aware of his fatal error. The supposed redneck guy he hit was none other than a muslim girl in a wheelchair. Steven Crowder was in total shock. While the radical muslim still recovered from the punch, Crowder quickly left the crime scene only leaving his podium behind ... _Shit, shit, shit. Sam would nevergive me a chance after this. Why did it have to be a goddamnwheelchair bound female muslim?_

The word of Steven Crowder beating up an immigrant in the park spread like the uncontrollable wild fires in the Amazonian rainforest. Islamophobe, racist and nazi - the sjws used every term to slander his name. But they all ignored the hard facts. Crowder did it for his love, one could call it even an accident. The crooked media twisted the story around until he was the absolute worst guy in human history, even worse than Trump, and his victim - apparently a very nice girl named Alanya bin Abdulaziz - was almost declared holy. Only he knew: that dirty carpetkisser was the true homophobe.   
  
The impact of this punch was massive. His hand still felt numb and this was the first time the idea came to him that something may be seriously wrong with it. But worst of all was the new video of Majority Report with Sam Seder. It reported the incident with every detail and the whole crew was ridiculing him how racist and stupid it was.

"Stop it. Uhm - this may be the worst thing he has ever done in his career. I cannot fathom ... this is just the typical day in the life of Steven Crowder." Seder shook his head in disbelieve. Was he sad? If so he hid it really well.

Day turned into night and the internet hated him more with each passing minute. _Should I apologize? No, I can't do that, they won't believe me anyway._ He cried, shouted at his stupid wife, then cried again.   
  
Next morning wasn't any better. To numb his pain Crowder watched Make-Up Tutorials and played Let's Dance. But inbetween these activities were periods of pure agony. He thought of revenge, he thought of apologizing, he thought of ignoring everything and leaving the US, leaving everything behind... But there was that one single thing holding him back. His wife Hilary wouldn't care anyway if he ran off with another man - manage a B&B in Vermont. She only cared about her dumb book-club. She didn't even read "Twelve Rules for Life" the book he gifted her for her birthday two years ago. She was just the worst. And he almost throw up thinking about her tits, attributes that he formerly cared about.

"Leave with me, Sam", he wrote on a piece of paper. "To the end of the world." He would even follow Seder to Venezuela if that was what Sam really wanted. 

Video after video the radical left bashed him and it was especially sad to see Sam Seder getting on the hate train. "Crowder? The sad part is that Crowder isn't even done after this. There are openly racist lunatics that still support him."

After the seventh George Soros funded hit-piece Steven couldn't stand the biased media narrative anymore. _If only Breitbart was national news. _This was the real oppression. But how could something be changed that was so clearly in favor of the status quo? _Helen Keller must have felt similar when she hid from the socialists and wrote that silly diary. _There was no hope for a conservative - every narrative was against them.

_If you can't beat it, join it. _He knew that these were dangerous socialist ideas, but he didn't care if the country was getting fucked. It was time to go outside and he knew exactly where to find the origin of this evil. He faced the campus sjws many times, but he never dared to enter the library. This was the place. 


	6. The Intellectual's Dark Web

The library was as shitty as someone would suspect. No books with pictures. Click bait titles. Bad WLAN. It was hell. For the next ten minutes Crowder just wandered around the building, trying to get a feeling for this stuff. He hated it, but he wanted to try it for his love. Finally he grabbed a random book, read a single passage and decided to never ever read again. This old-man prose burned into his brain, it was such a terrible experience. He didn't even knew where the sentence started and where it ended.

Crowder checked his surroundings. He really did not want to be seen here with a book in his hands. Some students were working unfazed on their own projects at a large table. He turned his attention back to the book and read another passage. Just as badly written. He put it back.  
"Isn't here something from Peterson?", he mumled to himself.

An intimate odor striked his neurological pathways and triggered a thunderstorm of emotions. Sam. He instantly recognized his smell. He turned around and there he was in all his glory. Daddy Seder.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Seder?", Crowder stammered, but the joy in his voice was clearly noticable.

"Nice to meet you, too. Did I interrupt you with something, Stevey?"

Crowder looked at the book in his hands, still perplexed. "Uhm, yes. But no. Maybe. I was just curious."

Sam came a lot closer and took the book from his hands. "Bataille. Interesting. Do you know what it is about?"

Crowder shook his head. "No", he replied almost breathless with big eyes. Maybe it was a desperate try to regain some of his alpha dominance, so Crowder quickly added: "Normally I don't read leftist bullshit."

"You silly little boy." Seder's words paired with a wonderful cocky smile made Crowder instantly erect. His head turned deep red almost as if he knew he was caught red-handed by this mysterious, sexy jew.

"Let me get this clear: This is a lovestory. If you like erotic things mixed with dark themes - just like me - this may be the perfect book for you, I promise. But I warn you. It is insanity."

Crowder gulped audibly and took a second look on the cover of the book, just to avert Sam's intense gaze. Sam Seder put his hands on his and continued: "I'm generally not a fan of physical violence, but I've always appreciated the pure ambition behind this book. It explores the dark sides of love. Of lust. Death. The licentious. It pushes the limits."

Their faces came nearer and nearer until Crowder could feel the warm breath of Sam. Lust was in his deep brown eyes. Slowly he moved closer to Crowder while at the same time pushing him into the direction of the shelf units - a place where they could converse unseen. With a thump the intermingled pair reached the end of the alcove. There Sam planted a kiss on his lips - the first in a long while. Time stopped at this exact moment. Steven relaxed and fully embraced the man he loved, not afraid of his feelings anymore. He felt Sam's warm body, his contracting muscles under the shirt and his stubbles and he just wanted more. Their tongues seemed to speak their own language, challenging each other, then dancing as a unison. 

When Crowder opened his eyes, Sam smiled from cheek to cheek. "I won't lie. Uhm - I wanted to see you, so I followed you. The kisses we share ... they are just magical."

"Yes, they are", Crowder replied. "Does that mean that you forgive me? Forgive me for what has happened on the campus?" 

Seder's expression grew stern. "I really don't know. But after getting to know you a bit better, I am positive that you are a good person deep inside of you. You can change."

"Change my mind?" 

"Yes."

Conflicting emotions flooded Crowder's brain. This was the opportunity to get what he craved for so long. But what are these changes? Did Sam Seder expect of him to change his whole identity? _How in the hell can I change to hate the flag, my country, my race?_  
It was a tiny spark of doubt, that incited a whole fire. _Is Sam playing with my feelings?_

From the look of Sam's expression he could not tell what he was thinking. He was an enigma. But it dawned on him, what made Sam so attractive and sexy in the first place. It was like playing with fire. Under the fassade of jewish intellectualism, there was a man defined by his dualistic nature. On the one hand his compassionate and romantic side. His soft kisses where indicators of this fact. On the other side he hid a true killer instinct. Sam was like a super predator. The countless libertarians that were destroyed on 'The Majority Report' were proof of it. And with each passing moment he was lured deeper into his dark web of conspiracy theories and eroticism.

_How many of them did Sam turn to his side? The side of destruction of familiy values, the side of Medicare for All and Pocahontas?  
How long will it take until I also belief in the Gender Pay Gap and rigged elections against Bernie Sanders?_


	7. Turning Point USA

"Is everything alright, Steven?", Sam asked.

"I don't know. I feel confused." He was insanely attracted to Sam

Sam put his arm around his shoulder. Then Sam gave him a little kiss on Steven's cheek and Crowder freed himself of Sam's embrace. Sam Seder was a master manipulator. Although he wanted to kiss him again and again, he just couldn't do it. With trembling lips and a squeaky voice he sad: "Why does it feel like you are playing my feelings? I don't want to change." In fact Crowder knew deep inside of him that he could change. But at the next moment this insight was deeply troubling.

_I would lose everything. This is no fucking joke. Robert Koch's goons will find me and probably kill me._

Crowders self-protection kicked in. Denial. Anger. Frustration. Suppression. "Am I really so bad in your eyes?", he added. 

"Stevey, please. I thought you felt the same. What caused the sudden change? Am I not good enough for you?", Sam asked in return. All while keeping his usual sceptic, but cool demeanor. But this was not the appropriate time for a cool demeanor, Crowder decided. He wanted to see the vulnerablilty, the humanity in Sam, he searched for signs that it was all worth it, but he was disappointed. For the first time there was that lingering feeling that Sam was just toying with him. And his intuition rarely failed, except the time when he married his wife Hilary, got stupidly drunk and according to Dave Rubin, fellated Dennis Prager. 

"Answer the question: Am I really so bad that you could only love me if I would change my whole identity?" 

Silence. Both men knew exactly what this pause meant. 

"Dude. I can't ... I am debt-ridden ... There is a contract that I have to follow." Teary eyed Crowder pushed Sam's advances to get a hold of him away. "This is too much, I need some time", Crowder cried. Without batting an eye, he pushed his crush aside and rushed to the exit. All eyes were turned on him, his face was burning from the tears, but he didn't care. He angrily tossed the book aside and continued the walk of shame.

"Is everything okay, comrade?", someone asked, but Crowder hissed at the blue-haired student. She backed away. "You guys suck! Fucking SJWs, go hide in your cisgender bathrooms, I don't care. Just get out of my way!" Right before the antifa police came, he left the library, crossed the street to a McDonalds and sat in there for a while. 

"Are you okay?", Sam asked and quietly slipped onto the opposite seat. Crowder stopped and directed his rage towards the man that hurt him so much. 

"You support genociding unborn children! And you want **me** to change? Are you out of your mind?! YOU ARE LIVING A LIBERAL LIE! I punched that bitch, because of **us**! She was a radical islamist and insulted you. And me." 

The silence was almost more punishing than anything that Sam could have said. Sam just bit on his lips, while he stared in the distance. Eyes on their drama again. 

"Why aren't you saying something?"

"I'm thinking."

"And?"

"Pause it for a sec. I think your heart knows what it wants, but your hands. They are bound. Are you in charge of your actions? Or the Koch funded think tank? You know, - I can't do anything about it."

_Maybe Marx was right all along and we all should mobilize, hang all ritch people in Central Park and destroy Western civilization._ _It must feel good to be a stealing and looting Antifa-terrorist who got no obligations, neither morally nor financially. _

Sam interrupted his train of thought. "I will leave you now, Steven." Sam was looking at the news on his phone. "Something big happened, my people need me", he continued cryptically. Before he left, he squeezed Crowder's hand one last time. "Take good care of you. We will meet again soon."

Then he was gone. Crowder didn't even had time to process all.  
For the next hour he was in a daze, thinking about his life. It was dark outside, when he noticed that something strange was going on. Some people in the McDonalds stood there, looking all worried, competely immersed in the tv news, whose volume was turned to the max. 

_What the fuck going on?_

Crowder took a look at his smart phone, which was flooded with news from the only reliable news network OANN. 

**State of Emergency: The deadly Wuhan flu, which originated from China, enters the US, after Trump lifts travel ban from China. Country flooded with flu carrying communists. Mortality Rate: Worse than the Black Death.**

And: **Antifa mass violence shakes up the United States, after drug dealing negro was justifiably killed by police force. Burning and Looting exceeds property damage of 9/11 by hundredfold.**

**North Korea and Iran ally with Angela Merkel and extremist thought leader Greta Thunberg in retaliation for Donald Trump's supposed toxic masculinity with plans to eradicate the US. 2000 rockets have been launched from all over the EU in the last 20 minutes, Mexico and Canada totally on board (8000 to follow). Destruction is imminent. Seek shelter.**

Cries outside the McDonalds were heard. And Coughing. A stone crashes into the window. Black hooded figures storm the McDonalds, armed with bats. Complete panick. This is the civil war that Tim Pool predicted months ago. 


	8. Patriotic Education

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: DEPICTION OF VIOLENCE AND SHOOTING

Crowder stumbled out of the building. For a second his vision was blurry, probably because he was dehydrated. But then he witnessed the amount of destruction around him. Black figures destroying property. Sirens roaring around the block. Crying children. No one could have forseen this. No one except Tim Pool. Black smoke was rising from a few blocks away, clouding the moon in the evening sky. Cars hooting all around him.

_Where is Sam? Is he safe?_

A brick flew over his head, missing him only by inches. The door behind him exploded into pieces. This was the signal to run. It was clear that the left was in charge of the streets now. Explosions everywhere. 

_I must get to safety first. _

Too bad he didn't carry a gun. Crowder dodged some kids and a homeless person, then finally saw a police officer. The officer was startled by his sudden arrival. "GET AWAY FROM THE STREETS", he shouted and pushed him away from the police car. "WAIT FOR TRUMP'S MILITARY!" Seconds later the car exploded and killed the officer right away. The shockwave threw Crowder off his feet, where he crawled back from the burning car wreck. A dumb pain bolted through his body, when he tried to get up. This left him immobilized once again. A few metres across the street was some white guy with a MAGA hat wielding the American flag and a gun - finally an ally. 

"Help me! Please!", Crowder shouted. 

The true patriot noticed him and helped Crowder on his feet. He was definitely injured and his ears were ringing from the explosion, but an ambulance probably wasn't available. Before he could thank his savior, the guy laughed. "It is an honor to fight alongside you Mr. Crowder." The guy probably wasn't older than 18 years old, but his expression was stern and determined.

"You know me, kid?"

"Yeah, of course. I'm Member of the Mug Club. Now get moving. Rockets are on the way. The kebabs want us dead. 1 hour remaining." 

Crowder started to run, but the boy stayed back. "Aren't you coming?" 

"Nah, I have to settle an account. I will fight until death. But you, Mr. Crowder, you must carry the torch. We must secure the existence of our people and a future for white children. Because the beauty of the White woman must not perish from the earth." His voice was calm like the boy had been possessed by an unseen force. 

"You don't have to. Come with me."

The boy shook his head. "No, my grandpa fought in the Second World War against the Nazi regime. Now it is my time. The Nazis will not win, because America will prevail." Pure conviction was speaking out of this young man. 

Just in this moment the kid blasted a goon crossing the other side of the street in the chest. Crowder was fucking horrified, stumbled back and watched the kid kill two other people that lanched an attacked against him with a skateboard. The violence was too much, Crowder fled the scene, tears running down his face. 

_This is insanity. War requires harsh measures, but that kid was fucking brain-washed. Maybe even by my content. _

While Crowder saw two more people die on his way to his car - one jumped from a window and the other one was hit by a car - he made it relatively unscathed to his car, but the windshield was sprayed with anarchist symbols. It was risky to drive, but he needed a bunker. Now. He maneuvered his car carefully around the back road, but quickly realized that this was a futile attempt, as the streets were blocked by heavy traffic, burning debris and looters.

"FUCK." He cursed and cursed until his vocal chords began to hurt. He kicked his car, punched against the horn and cursed again, just to relief the stress for a tiny but. Then he left the car and just ran. 

_Home. I have to reach home. Extremists. They are everywhere. I will be safe there, arm myself to the teeth and wait until Trump and the other moderate Republicans saves us._

While Crowder was kind of on the dad bod size, the situation gave him the stamina needed to reach his suburban home in ten minutes. He encountered some grim looking groups on the way, but they were to busy desecrating Trump 2020 signs. He took a look at his phone, but the internet completely broke down, with a last warning coming from OANN warning of imminant danger coming from North Korea and the EU's incoming rocket barrage.

It took another minute to unlock the door with his fiddly, shaking, blood incrusted hands, then he ran upstairs for the weapon's closet. The light to the bedroom was on, so he peaked into it. Hilary, his wife was in the bed and she was not moving. 

_Holy Shit. Wait - WHAT? Is she dead?_

"Hilary?", he croaked. 

Hilary raised her head in surprise. "Steven? What are you doing here?!"

The bathroom door flung open and a known figure stepped out from the steamy room. 

Paul Joseph Watson.


End file.
